


Under Your Spell

by lequeenofmoondoor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel in the Bunker, M/M, Magic, Season/Series 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 05:18:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5035336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lequeenofmoondoor/pseuds/lequeenofmoondoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set as 11x03. Rowena's spell is taking it's toll on Castiel, and it only gets worse when she vamps up the power, leaving our angel and his flannel wearing squirrel to deal with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under Your Spell

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So this is the first thing I've written in a while. It's based off of the Promo for 11x03. Basically my take with a little bit of Destiel at the end. Read, enjoy, and review if you like it! Thanks to Tessa for reading over it :)

“So let me get this straight: Rowena cast an attack dog spell on you or whatever, you decided not to tell us what was going on and instead called angels, getting captured and tortured by said angels until you made your way here.”  
Castiel nodded slightly, a blanket around his shoulders. He felt terrible, and it was getting worse by the moment. The wounds in his chest and head and on his face were nothing more than dull pains after time, most having been cleaned out by Dean’s steady hands. Still, it hurt. It was a pounding in his head, a heavy aching in his heart, a cold settling in his chest, an unyielding desire to hurt and kill and attack. Castiel supposed that it was a little more manageable with his grace back under his belt, but the spell turned him into something else. Something out for blood.   
It didn’t even seem to just be focused on Crowley anymore. That sickening feeling would slowly build up before suddenly slapping him in the face with its intensity, and he wanted to hurt anyone who was near him. Like right now. He felt red covering his vision and pain shooting through his body, and he gripped the blanket with a low groan. Immediately, Castiel felt two pairs of eyes snap up.   
Dean was the first to respond with, “Cas, you alright, pal?” Castiel found the question a little ridiculous. It was very clear that he was suffering. He tried to play it off, however, as if he was perfectly fine. After a long moment of gathering himself, he quickly realized it wasn’t going to be even the slightest bit possible.   
“It’s the spell,” he muttered through gritted teeth, with eyes squeezed shut, “It’s trying to regain hold.”  
“I’m going to check out some of the archives,” Sam said, pushing himself up from his seat in the main library, “A lot of the darker stuff is hidden away in the files in the basement.”   
“Okay,” Castiel rasped, knowing full well that Dean wasn’t going to leave him alone. Not that he wanted him to. He would willingly want Dean to leave for any reason other than his own safety. Nor would he want to upset him, which was why Castiel was humoring him with the blanket. As if a grey wool blanket could warm up the ice cold burning through him. At least it gave him something to tug on- he much preferred digging his fingers into the blanket that some poor soul.   
As if on cue, the older Winchester cleared his throat, “I’ll take Cas duty while you search.” The phrasing and tiredness in Dean’s voice resonated within Castiel. The angel was a burden, infringing himself upon the lives of the people he cared about and causing them to concern themselves over his affairs. Dean didn’t have a responsibility to take care of Castiel, but sometimes he treated it as such. Sometimes Castiel thought that flicker of something more, something deeper was all in his imagination.   
Sam left the room with an almost knowing glance at Castiel, as if he could read his mind. That was impossible, of course, but the lingering sensation remained. Did Sam have any idea what he was feeling? What he had been battling with since he rebuilt Dean’s pure, bright soul after hell? What he had been struggling to come to terms with since before purgatory? What he had only now accepted for what it was.   
Castiel was in love with Dean Winchester, always had been.   
He had only figured out his emotions, what they really meant, in Purgatory. He had led the Leviathan as far away from Dean as he could, in order to give him a fighting chance of getting out. Castiel realized then that he was in love. He wouldn’t have gone to such great lengths to protect anyone else. Only then had everything else made sense- how he always wanted to be close to Dean, how he always examined his face to memorize every last detail. He had been under Dean’s spell much longer that Rowena’s. But did Sam know?  
He didn’t have more time to think about it before he felt warm green eyes back on him again. It was so nice to see those eyes not full of hatred and pure rage like the last time they had been together. It had been one of the worst things Castiel has ever seen in the millions upon millions of years that he had been around. However, now, while tired, they held only concern and maybe that little spark of something else.   
“C’mon, what do you say we get you some soup, okay?” Dean prompted, standing up as well. Castiel knew very well that nurturing was one of Dean’s many welcome characteristics. He knew that Dean had practically raised Sam when he was only a little boy himself, so of course it was ingrained into who he was at this point. That wasn’t to say that Castiel didn’t appreciate it. He adored every part of who Dean was.   
He nodded slightly and pushed himself up to go help. He didn't want to make the Winchester do everything on his own. Yet Dean pushed him back into the chair, hands firm on his shoulders.Castiel couldn’t help but enjoy the two points of soft heat that so sharply contrasted the stabbing cold in the rest of his body. It was so nice. He let his eyes slide shut a little as he looked up at Dean.  
“I got this. You just relax,” Dean walked away with a pat of his hand, bowlegs bending slightly as he walked out of the room. Castiel watched after him longingly and tried to squish down the pain inside of him, telling him to just stand up and stab the other man. No. He would never, ever do that. There had been many times when the Winchester was infuriating enough that Castiel had to take drastic measures (he still regretted what he had to do right before the apocalypse, but it had helped), but he would never, ever kill Dean. However, he had caused so much pain along the way...   
He hadn’t realized how long he had spent thinking about it, but it must have been long- all of a sudden, Dean was back in his line of vision.   
“Hey, you okay?” Dean’s voice was tinged with alarm as he set a full bowl of soup on the table and bent down to Castiel’s level. His concerned green eyes scanned over the angel’s, most likely looking for anything that he could help with.   
Castiel nodded slightly, reaching out to take one of Dean’s hands. Maybe it was against his better judgement overall, but it grounded him in something real, someone pure. It was nice.   
“Jesus, you’re hands are freezing!” The Winchester almost let go then and there, on impulse… But he didn’t. Instead, Castiel felt himself be pulled into Dean’s arms, firm hands on his sides. It felt so good, he couldn’t believe it. Castiel let himself relax against the warm, safe Dean in front of him and closed his eyes. He had missed this. He had been hugged so few times in his long life. Angels never felt the need to, as most were cold and irrational. But Dean… Castiel had never met anyone like Dean before.   
They remained like that for a little while until the angel had slid off of the chair and was more on Dean’s lap than the floor. Over time, he felt better. The harsh pain in his head had eased up enough that he could think without feeling like attacking someone, and the cold in his chest was slowly leaving. Castiel felt like he could stay like that forever. He only hoped that Dean felt the same way.   
Suddenly, Castiel was pushed back into his chair as footsteps entered the room. He blinked open worn out eyes, noting Sam’s amused grin and Dean’s red cheeks. Why would Dean be embarrassed? All he was doing was watching over his spellbound friend, as Castiel had done many times before. Albeit, he was told many times that it was “creepy”, but that was all it had been, nevertheless.   
“Dean? Can I, um, talk to you for a sec?”  
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean stood up, bracing himself on the table, “Cas, eat up, okay?” With that, he left the room with Sam.   
The remaining person in the library sighed to himself, looking down at the bowl that had been placed next to him. He wasn’t hungry, though he likely wouldn't be again. As much as it was an inconvenience, Castiel almost missed eating on a regular basis. He missed the rich flavors and textures, and how everything was somehow so different. It just tasted like molecules, he noted as he took a small sip.   
Castiel managed to take a few more before he dropped the spoon. Something was wrong. The slowly dissipating feelings had hit him full force, with even more intensity than before. Rowena must have been somewhere, reinforcing the spell.   
He doubled over and landed face down on the floor. It was too much, suddenly. He didn’t know how he was going to be able to stand this. He tried to fill his mind with all of the things he had used before to keep him somewhat together- Gabriel, Sam, Dean- but it wasn’t working. Castiel could feel himself giving in against everything that he had, undirected rage filling his mind. And then-   
Everything was red again. Castiel pushed himself up off the cold linoleum floor and looked around. He wasn’t supposed to be here; no, there was a curly haired woman, an enemy to be vanquished, somewhere else who needed his attention. He tossed the blanket off of his shoulders and marched out, fire burning in his eyes and cold hatred settling in his chest. Every thought in his mind was about finding this woman and destroying her.   
This curse that was on him had been restricting his ability to teleport, so he simply slipped out of the bunker and walked out. Something inside of him, accompanied by a pounding headache, was telling him to follow the highway until he got to an abandoned warehouse. That’s where she would be. His target.   
The walk was quick, at least in his mind. Castiel’s head was filled with pure thoughts of rage and anger that kept him going throughout the trek. Occasionally, little thoughts of stop and Dean arose, but the spell quickly squashed them down into nothingness. The spell controlled everything, from his mindset to the angry walking pattern that remained constant. His red eyes stared down the black highway until he got to the warehouse. It had taken him less time than it normally would have, but it was yet another thing that must have been spell related. He hadn’t realized it at the time, but simply dragging himself down the highway made him less than inconspicuous.  
Right before he entered, he had to stop and brace himself against the door. He felt awful. His head was pounding so hard that it was like a drummer was playing on them. Castiel’s stomach was tearing itself apart from the inside. Normally, when this happened, the spell would start to wear off, and he would go off and recover somewhere. Not this time. Castiel could only feel the spell growing stronger as he pushed himself up and walked in.   
Inside was a labyrinth of paths, shelves still lined with hardware equipment that had been unused for years. Castiel could almost see a red, glowing line in front of him, directing him to the woman. As he travelled through the meandering maze, he vaguely registered gruff shouting from a different part. It sounded familiar to him, very familiar. Still, Castiel shook it off and continued on his mission.  
He came upon her in one of the dark corners. Why the girl was in here, he couldn’t imagine, but that wasn’t any of his concern. She was facing the other way, completely unaware. Castiel whipped her around with burning red eyes as she screamed, shrill voice piercing the heavy silent. He slammed her hard into the shelves behind them so hard that the sound of her head cracking against the metal pole resonated through the air. Castiel let his hands rise up to her throat and began to squeeze.   
Behind them was that shouting again accompanied by heavy footsteps- Dean. Castiel let go and revolved to face the man with a stony face, barely noting the hurt in his eyes.   
“Cas, please. You have to stop this,” Dean nearly commanded it, taking a few slow steps forward, “Just calm down.”   
The angel suddenly lunged forward in attack mode, but that had already been anticipated. The Winchester sidestepped and pinned Castiel down hard. He found himself so that he couldn’t move, and he let out a low bellow of outrage.   
“Listen to me, dammit! Feel this,” Dean gently cupped Castiel’s face, a sharp contrast from the weight against his chest, “I’m here, okay? You’re so much stronger than this. You’ve overcome so damn much, Cas and… You have to beat this.”  
Castiel stared in hatred at the man in front of him, but he could slowly feel it calming down.   
“Let it go, Cas. You don’t need this. You can do this. You have to do this.”  
He swallowed hard, smushing his cheek against Dean’s rough hand.   
“I can’t do this without you.”   
He felt better. The pain was less, the cold was dissipating, the anger was fading away from him.  
“I need you.”  
Castiel needed Dean more than anything. He could recognize this now. He would never hurt Dean, like he had attempted.   
“I love you.”   
He felt the world freeze. He felt his eyes go wide in shock and wonder. He felt everything that the spell had forced onto him go away, because none of it mattered- only Dean. He felt relief as a small smile broke onto his face.   
He felt Dean’s chapped lips crash into his roughly, needily, in the middle of the warehouse. Castiel relaxed into it contently, noting the pressure of Dean’s arms decreasing as they slid around his waist. He, in turn, wrapped his arms around the taller man’s neck before breaking. He rested his forehead against the Winchester’s with closed eyes.   
“Dean, I…”

END


End file.
